


The Light

by babybluecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, M/M, One Shot, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybluecas/pseuds/babybluecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can't stay."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light

“You can’t stay,” you say, and you bid him goodbye, because you know he’ll come back, he always comes back.

You see his body, breathless, lifeless, skin still warm under your fingers and you scream his name. Your recurring nightmare, you killed him for the nth time, like you’ve been killing him from the start.

Yet he comes back with a flash of light and within that Light you begin to place your trust.

 

That’s why you say: “you can’t stay,” and that’s why you wave your hand when you drop him off at his workplace. It’s better for him anyway, you try to convince yourself, like he’s been trying to do all day.

You can’t take him home, and you just want to take him home.

He waves back and turns around and it’s all gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay, says the cast on his wrist and the rose and the pink glow on his forehead when the memories come back flashing before your eyes. “You’ll die without me and you’ll die with me,” you think when the engine roars.

The Light said _no_ and within the Light lies your last hope.

 

He’s there again, tipsy and alive and he feels like home you set fire to. You sip your beer and you can’t bear the look on his face. “We can’t work together,” barely passes your lips. “I don’t have a choice,” is your excuse and it doesn’t wash you clean anymore. They say: third time’s a charm. But he always comes back.

The Light has grabbed you by the balls.

 

It’s not him, whose body’s lying on the floor, but it doesn’t make it any better. It’s not him, whom the litany of your lies has killed, not this time.

The Light is the dark in the dead boy’s burned-out eyes.

“I need you,” you’ve said a million times before and you need him now, here, where you’re on your knees, to come and pick you up.

Because he’s the last thing you have left to lose.

 

The Light is a presence where there is none.

And even the Light went out.


End file.
